


(your) Suffocating warmth (I can’t stand it)

by asemic



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asemic/pseuds/asemic
Summary: William Gibson says yes to Solomon Tozer; their minds are elsewhere.Written with mannisbaratheon/scnabeltierdamn.
Relationships: Cornelius Hickey/Sgt Solomon Tozer, William Gibson/Cornelius Hickey, William Gibson/Solomon Tozer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: The Terror Rarepair Week 2019





	(your) Suffocating warmth (I can’t stand it)

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to mannisbaratheon/scnabeltierdamn for the idea and the constant encouragement.

This certainly felt spiteful and toed the precipice of hate. Tozer grasped and adjusted his limbs to seemingly increase the mortar and pestle grind in his joints. Though it hurt he was fucked and fucked right. Cornelius hadn’t touched him like this in so very long: he made his choice. Yes, their hands met while they spoke, but nothing further. William loved Cornelius Hickey and despised the man thrusting against him. He stole his beloved. 

Beloved, loved. Be loved by Cornelius Hickey. In a way, but the moments becalmed. Above him Solomon Tozer moved with a distant look in his eyes. William recognized it since he saw it in the mirror. Beloved, to be loved. Once. 

*

Again. 

To William’s surprise Tozer moved gently. He must have seen how the illness forced William to stay largely immobile unless absolutely necessary. It wasn’t sloth but self-preservation. He remained in his own spacious tent with while the wind threatened to shudder it apart. It reminded him of the curtain, always in danger of snapping open from the slightest outside movement. He always worried about their reckless and chance stroking, but at the moment he'd do anything to be with him. 

“We’ll be on a beach where they can’t touch us. And if they could, they wouldn’t dare.” Cornelius sounded so confident in his fantasy while they wiped themselves clean. Then, William viewed it as a lark to pass the mind during the increasingly idle hours. Now he’d give a part of his soul for such a chance. All of what remained to be warm and healthy. 

Beloved. 

Again. 

Before he craved space and solitude in a time when he feared his own thoughts may be overheard by another. Now he isolated himself in too much room and too few moments with Cornelius. When he did visit, he stroked William’s shedding hair and shared his plans. Somehow William still figured in them though they became sand through his fingers. Another beach, another bowl of fresh food, another chance to be free. And all through it, William remained quiet to drift off and wake alone. 

But Tozer came to him still handsome even with his peeling skin to ask if he wanted to. Why not? He used to think Cornelius disappeared to commune with Tozer, but those moments have certainly slowed. In his exile, he witnessed him pace their ragged camp, a lean dog in search of a master. And he came to him doing what William could no longer do: walk straight though his shoulders bent. 

Tozer came to him and their bodies did not fit. Before, his limbs were arranged like parts; now they took care to make him comfortable. There may have been a reason for his kindness but he remained silent. And William did not investigate but listened. 

“Imagine all that sand. Our homes are where we put ourselves. We’ll be close to a town if need be, but we’ll tame the oceans. I’m a marine, right? I maintain order.” Tozer brushed William’s brittle hair and talked himself to sleep. But he’d wake alone. The tent suddenly felt too crowded for William’s liking. He preferred Goodsir’s despaired silence to pipe dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the following: 
> 
> **Would You Rather**
> 
> The bite of the cold  
> (Outside)  
> Is nothing compared to this  
> (your) Suffocating warmth  
> (I can’t stand it)
> 
> [x](https://hellopoetry.com/words/suffocating/)


End file.
